She chewed on the side of her thumb, her feet tapped against the floor in a quick rhythm, her eyes set on the time table on the wall. They should have landed 8 minutes ago. She was more than aware that landing was rarely ever on time but this time, she hated it. It didn't even say the plane would be late.
"I'm hungry!" Sergio Jr. whined and she looked at Pilar who was balancing her baby on one arm while tried to keep the boys under control.
"I have some chocolate on me," she whispered to her, unsure if it was okay at such a late hour to offer.
"You're a lifesaver." Pilar let out a sigh of relief. Considering most of the shops were already closed at the airport, having a hungry Sergio Ramos be that the man himself or his mini version, would have been way too adventorous and exhausting.
"Here you go." She ruffled the little boy's hair and exhaled, her eyes wandering back to the time table.
This was the first time she was nervous and lost for words. What could she possibly say that wouldn't sound patronizing or wouldn't make it sound like she belittled the very real pain of dropping out too early from the World Cup? She knew how much Marco'd expected of the tournament, she knew how much he'd worked for it. She wasn't even sure if she should say anything at all, maybe silence would be for the best.
"First drop out is bad." Pilar smiled at her. "You'll figure it out and then next time, you'll just know what he needs." She nodded, wishing there'd be no more such times but even she wasn't delusional enough to believe Marco would never lose something big again.
The door finally opened and Sergio walked out first. She watched as Pilar hugged him tightly and patted a kiss on his lips. He looked tired as hell, his eyes had bags so huge, her entire wardrobe would have fit there but a smile appeared on his face as he looked at his kids.
"Marco's gonna be the last one." He waved to her before they disappeared through the doors.
She wasn't surprised. Marco always dropped his luggage off ahead of everyone, resulting in it appearing last when they landed.
Nearly 20 minutes had passed, everyone was gone and there was still no sign of him though. She was getting more and more anxious. What was taking so long? Finally, the doors slided apart and Marco appeared. Her heart wrenched when she saw him. His head hang low, his shoulder slumped forwards, his entire being just screamed dejection.
"Hey." She whispered softly, and pulled him into her arms, embraced him tightly. He didn't hug her back though, one hand remained on the handle of the bag, the other just hang besides him. "Let's get you home." She patted a small kiss on his lips and started out. She was on the verge of crying again. One of the reasons why she was happy that she ended up not going to Russia was that she could let it all out without worrying about Marco seeing it or the photographers finding joy in selling her tearsoaked pictures.
The trip home was completely silent. She tried to make small talk but nothing worked and she gave up after the sixth attempt to get a word out of her boyfriend. She wanted to help him somehow but how could she? Should she just let him work through it alone? Likely not, considering Marco had a great talent for bottling things up and she didn't want this to be one of those things that'd come and bite him in the ass because he didn't let it out.
"I'm sorry, Marco," she said when they got home and she closed the door behind her.
"Me too." He mumbled, leant his suitcase to the wall, kicked his shoes off and started towards the bedroom.
"Hey." She took his hand and dragged him to the couch. "We should talk about it." She knew this was pushing it but she had no better idea.
"Talk about what? That I let my country down?" He snapped at her and pulled his hand away.
"What?" She frowned at him. This was stupid, he'd done his best and it hadn't been enough, they'd all suffered the same way. She couldn't point at anyone as extremely terrible other than the entire team and how they'd been incapable of switching to something unexpected.
"You heard me. I let everyone down. I should have scored. I should have taken the penalty, we knew it... dammit," he explained, his eyes tearing up before he rubbed the bridge of his nose and exhaled loud.
"Marco, you can't blame yourself for this." She stroked his arm but he pulled away from her touch.
"This whole thing... Just everything is so fucked. Look at me, I've been complaining about the lack of playtime all the time and I get to start and it turns out that I worth shit." He shook his head, chewing on his bottomlip, turning away from her.
"You are not worth shit, Marco!" Her voice came out harsher than she intended to but suddenly, she had a feeling cuddling and soft words wouldn't be any use. "This was your first World Cup..."
"I'm 22 and I'm still not starting anywhere, not in the club, not in the national team and when I do... dare and say what I did wasn't just completely useless!" He turned to her rubbing his face and she took a deep breath so she wouldn't yell at him.
"You are only 22, you mean..."
"No, I mean Messi got his first Ballon d'Or at the age and Cristiano was way into getting it. And what have I done? Helped my team to drop out against Russia? Great achievement. What if I get injured and this is all I ever get? What if..." He huffed and she felt her blood boil.
"What if I say they never won the World Cup either? Or what if I say you're a two times Champions League winner, that you scored in a final and I could go on." She cut in before he could continue. "Self pity is not an attractive trait, not even on you," she stated with a hard voice, her eyes narrowed at him. She was on the verge of tears. How could he degrade himself so much? "I know you're hurt now and it's okay but please, don't let this one single failure consume you like this."
"I just... It hurts." He whispered and her heart shattered as he glance at her, a single tear running down his cheek.
"Come here." She wrapped her arms around his neck, her hand made soothing circles over his back. "You have years upon years ahead of you, babe, several World Cups where you can proove yourself because you have so much in you."
"It was so humiliating and I... I couldn't do anything." Tears found their way out and she sighed shakily, swallowing her own. This was the time when she had to be strong for him and she wasn't going to fail him.
"I offer you a deal." She cupped his face into her hands.
"A deal?" He raised an eyebrow at her.
"Yes, a deal." She nodded. "You can be broody and moody for exactly one week, when it's up I'm going to kick your ass."
"I don't think that's how it works," he snorted quietly with a shake of his head.
"Well, that's exactly how it's going to work now." She shrugged and patted a kiss on his lips. "I'm not taking it too well when you talk shit about yourself so please, don't."
"You talk shit about me all the time," he huffed and raised an eyebrow at her.
"That's constructive criticism." She wrinkled her nose, trying not to laugh. It was true. She was one of his worst critics but he knew she meant well.
"I love you, you know that, right?" He laughed at her, or he meant to, it sounded more like a dying bird trying to make a noise.
"Yeah, I know. And I love you, even when you're loathing yourself." She brushed her lips over his softly. "You'll get through this and come back stronger."
